Empress
by Fishcake-kun
Summary: As 723rd Empress, this is her life story as a mother, wife, and sister.


Sickly cool goose bumps absolutely doused in the most heart wrenchingly cold sweat stuttered her to suddenly wake up. With nausea as an eternal accompaniment, she turned—restlessly and twisting to adjust for her comfort. The thick sheets crumpled under her form; her hands waved out and knocked into the headboard as she groaned—eyes still tightly shut closed as whimpers escaped her tightly lipped mouth. Dizziness ran its way through her head, soaring from one temple to the other and swing back and forth like a pendulum—the pressure and weight doubling each time. It chattered and lashed out at her—a chattering mandible—the base of her cranium throbbing under the pressure. Unpleasantness burned her inner organs, her dinner churning its way through her tight windpipe and the sizzling contents lashed out consistently as she tried helplessly to gulp it back down into its respectable places.

Tossing her head, she let out a gasp of comfort—

Vomit sloshed its way out of her throat and she gagged for shallow gasps of air—

Tangled sheets of earthy dark tones—

The doubling, harsh pain near her rear—

Hands reaching down in instinct to protect her unborn child—

Warm, slick—something icky and chilling—

Flickering flames of white-hot burning fire flashed as dots and pricks of pain danced sporadically before her eye-lids—

"_No._"

And before she lost herself into hysteria's arms and sleeps murky gaze of despotic oblivion of blackness—she saw the eternal mark of redred_red_ staining her nightgown an amaranth blush—she screamed.

"_NOCTIS!"_

-**xxx**-

Proneness became her as she lay gasping on the hospital mattress.

Her arms gripped something—harsh and unyielding—and the bars that glimmered white shone twinkling under the fluorescent lights.

It pressed angrily into her not-so-nimble back as the flaring, unjust flame near her bowels made her body swelter beyond proportions. The lumps swelled, the pain consumed her, and the slick hold of dehydration sucked the very energy out of her limbs and body. The wanton cries that once escaped her month had suckled down into pitiful whimpers and the chilly, harsh ground underneath her transformed into the ghosts of those she had taken their lives from. Their shadowy hands grasped for her and she screamed in utmost fear—for her child or for herself—she didn't know. Throbs and heaves.

Burning, piercing, stabbing, and absolutely indescribable pain flared unceremoniously through her shackled body. The hands still asked for her soul—yelling, screeching for her child and sobs streamed down. Tears of fear, pain—she didn't know anymore. This indescribable sensation of stretching her body beyond mangled recognition seared through her and saline tears crushed her being. They wanted her child—her beloved baby boy, oh her lovely, lovely baby boy.

Thrashing around in unadulterated fear—she broke under the very heart of it all.

She saw them—from the very peripherals of her trained vision—their trained hands that spoke of oozing professionalism pushed her body back down. Soothing voices that underlined concern told her to calm down and she snarled at them. She let out a gasp of pain—

_Breathe! _They told her and she did.

The _in, out, in, out._

It humbled her.

A hand replaced one of her utmost grips on the white handles of the mattress went under her hand of doom—she crushed it and it crushed her hand in return—the veins throbbing with blooming youth.

_In_

_Out_

_In_

_Out_

Her child—

And suddenly—suddenly—it was all gone.

Breaths hindered and pain ricocheting through her body—she gave birth to a baby boy.

The loquacious, lusty cry blasted its way to her murky hearing as tired tear dripped sorely. Those tiny, adorable pair of currently blind eyes of pure cobalt squinted as the light above them sheltered them. They took the child from her—goo and dark blood lay slickly on its skin, its pasty pallor she could see even as they moved further away. Moments later, the child—her baby boy, her mind whispered possessively—in swaddling cloth of white and outlining baby blue settled against her shallowly heaving breasts. She tried to tear any sound out of her throat but the constricting force of warmth closed off any sound that could've been sounded. It overcame her and she smiled amidst everything that just happened.

Wispy strands of darkness overlaid upon the boys head and it stirred under her slender, calloused hands of bloodshed, war, and tears. Pressing her face tenderly against her baby's face—Lightning let herself become a mother. His face scrunched up in annoyance and he let out a small squeal as tears dripped onto his face. Pudgy hands grasped her strands of hair and he puckered his mouth as he missed his target. She traced his face. Soft satin touched her skin and the chubby little cheeks were reddening from the boy's exasperation as he tried desperately to grasp her hair.

_Just like the King, _they shuttered, eyes wide in soft surprise.

Lightning smiles—a soft smile of glowing motherhood—and they gasp at the starry elation behind it. Looking down once again, she presses a kiss against his nose, his forehead, his two tiny eyelids and she kisses her baby boy's tears away.

_Just like Noctis, _she replied.

It suddenly occurred to her that now, _now_ she had something worth protecting—something that would make her fight teeth and bone to protect and she closed her eyes. _Serah_, her hands tightened just a minuscule bit but her tiny infant let out a soft squeal at the added pressure. _Rest your soul. _

And before she could count, they took her baby boy—_her baby boy_—away from her. Away from her warm, protective grasp and away from her. He immediately started sniffling, as if sensing his mother wasn't holding him anymore, but before he could let out a livid wail, a comforting hand assuaged his head gently.

He was carried away from her to be brought to the incubator—he was still two weeks premature and they needed to see if anything hadn't been fully matured yet or if he had any birth defects. However, a swarm of rage pent up in her throat threatened to burst out if it weren't for the hand that rested above hers. Looking up, she saw the face of the King.

His comforting smile gave her great relief and finally all the stress and pain of labor coerced her to take a nap. Defiant, she shook it off and looked back at her baby that was no longer there—sleep still persistently tried to overtake her and this time she let it do so.

For now, everything was okay.

-**xxx**-

The lusty wail that broke into her slumber left her shooting up in distress.

Was her baby—

Was he okay—

Is anyone trying to break in—

Dear Pulse, was her baby _alright—_

The dimness of the night shadowed the room and Lightning looked to the side only to see a blaring red number.

**3:23 AM**

Blinking back murky sleep from her eyelids, she turned her head to face the origin of where the piercing sound had come from. The peaceful tranquility had been dismembered by that awfully high pitched screech and she had only one reason why. Carefully, she squinted her eyes as they got adjusted to the lack of light and saw a rather peculiar sight. For months now, Lightning had been the one to take care of their son—having no care for nannies or midwives to take over her job and as much taxing and stressful as it was, she wouldn't have it any other way. Her husband stood in front of the wide desk of their shared vanity. The expanse table which had once been taken over with expensive cosmetics and stacks of chaotic documents were now strewn over with hypoallergenic powders, numerous packages of diapers, and various bottles of lotion. Underneath, she viewed a trashcan overflowing with soiled linens.

The child that was laid upon a fluffy, cute blanket glimpsed at her beyond his father's body and caught her eye. His face was a sniveling, angry mess and the darkly blue eyes were glossy with unshed tears. However, it soon decided that she was no longer his object of interest and went back to focus on the man unsuccessfully taking off his soiled diaper. Just as soon as he was about to let loose a sobbing wail fit with watery boogers and fat tears, the father pat down one masculine hand upon his forehead strewn with wispy strands of ruthlessly spiky, messy hair. The infant immediately stopped trying to cause a tantrum but it didn't ease the poor child's pent up vexation.

The hungry frown of her baby boy alerted her to everything that she would need to know and Lightning let out a breathless laugh. Immediately, her husband turned to look at her and the pleading, desperate face he had on almost tempted her to just sit back and watch her boy's father continue to slowly die of the torture she had inflicted on him.

Flickering back to her little boy, she noticed that the boy had begun to start chewing on his small fist and begin to fuss upon the blanket—which in turn made Noctis' job immensely harder. Finally taking pity on her lover, Lightning gestured for him to come over after he successfully changed the diaper and even more rueful child to her comforting grasp. As soon as the boy was in her grip, he considerably calmed down. Slipping down a flimsy strap of her nightgown, Lightning pressed a blushing pink nipple to her boy's cheek. As soon as her little child felt the appendage touch his skin, he twisted so that his gluttonous, hungry mouth could engulf.

Her naked, engorged breast was shown for all to see, but Lightning could only feel a comforting peace as her husband sat down next to her as she, in a hushed whisper, spoke and sang bumbling nonsense to her tiny infant as he ate with a voracious attitude.

-**xxx-**

Her child was an absolute nightmare.

If nobody was watching her little boy, then suddenly he would be _poof!_

It didn't matter how many people they assigned to keep track of their child—no could ever have it in their sights for over two hours. By then, the little squirt would've been long gone. It was rather frustrating to know how stealthy her little brat was.

At least, that was how she felt when the poor monster she created had finished drooling all over her most treasured gunblade _that was supposed to be in its _glass_ case!_

However, it didn't even seem significant when compared to the mess her husband went through.

All his important documents and paperwork had been chewed on, spit on, drooled on, and then pooped on.

All in that order too.

-**xxx**-

One day, when her little child had finally—alright, alright, _somewhat—_mastered the art of walking like a drunk, he had broken out of his nursery—_again, _gah, she didn't hire another group of incompetent handlers, _ugh—_and tried to find his way to his father's office. Of course, however, he got dreadfully lost on his way there. The Caelum ancestral palace was not one to frown upon for its décor and style was most aesthetically pleasing and it's rather labyrinth type style and mazy secret passages could have even the greatest puzzle breakers befuddled. And as much as she valued and loved her little boy—he couldn't possibly be able to traipse through the palace jungle at the tender age of one year and three months.

So when Ignis found him lost and confused in the labyrinth halls, he called upon his sense of duty and honor and sighed. Picking up the child, he led the way to his King's office. He fussed upon his current caretaker's shoulders however—pulling at the carefully gelled spikes of his hair and musing it all up. When Prompto and Gladiolus, after they finished wooing the court ladies, found a softly steaming Ignis and an amused prince fisting his hands into the poor advisor's hair.

The two proceeded to laugh their asses off, not seeing the foot that was well on its way to slamming into their man hoods before it was too late.

Later, Lightning would find the two men in the palace infirmary, both curled up into a fetal position and holding their genitalia.

She would think nothing of it as a happily sighing Ignis smirked in the background and her little boy giggled away.

-**xxx**-

Her little boy of five summers and springs—_dearest Etro, how had her little brat grown up so fast?—_and he had already begun his sparring and training lessons with the palace tutors, along with close family friends and his parents. Her little boy of only three feet and four inches struggled to keep along with his trainer. _Slower_, the woman advised and she softly tapped his foot to adjust his incorrect stance and figure. In his white suit of self-defense arts, he aimed an uppercut to the woman's abdomen only for her to swiftly, but softly grasp his tiny fist in her palm. Stella then proceeded to inform her little boy as to how he could quickly change their figure to his advantage.

He absorbed everything like a sponge and while he couldn't best his teacher at the defensive arts, he amazed her every time with how he had gotten better.

Lightning could only glow with motherly pride.

But after every lesson, she would have a few bandages for his shallow cuts and a kiss on the forehead.

-**xxx**-

Soon, she was pregnant again—only with twins this time.

The palace and the people of the kingdom have been ecstatic, the court cooed and the government nodded with approval at the prospects of more heirs for the royal family to continue on.

The only person, however, that wasn't content with her being pregnant was her very own first child.

He had glared at her stomach as if trying to glare holes into it and by the time she was five months due, she finally cracked.

He was six years old when she asked him the question—her tired, gestating body sitting on the comfy couch while munching on a pickle smothered with chocolate sauce, "Honey, what's wrong?" He continued to glare at her engorged stomach for a brief moment before answering, "_That."_ He hissed and pointed accusingly at her pregnancy. "Ever since you've gotten pregnant, nobody's been paying attention to me. Nobody's ever listens to me and, and, and y-you and dadd-y-y never hug, or kiss, or play, or have f-fun with a-anymore!" He wailed and ran to her, arms wrapping around her neck after he leaped onto the loveseat, "Ith noth fair!" He slurred into her neck—boogers and fatty tears dribbling down.

To say she was shocked would've been the understatement of the century.

Her little boy, her beautiful, beautiful boy was _jealous_ over her unborn children.

He was still sobbing rather contentiously before she pulled him away from her and then hugged him gently, so gently as to show all of her unconditional, overflowing love. His twiggy arms barely wrapped her neck as Lightning made soothing circles and whispering hushed condolences. Soon he pulled away—face still red and snobby but content and no longer envious.

She placed one of his hands against her stomach and told him to wait when he was about to give her a withering glare. Before long, a thump hit his hand and then another thump did it again. His wide blue eyes grew enormous and before long, he was jumping at the prospect of younger siblings when she told him about them.

His eyes glittered in the sunlight, "I'm going to teach them everything I know!" He had exclaimed. "And, and I'll also show them Uncle Prompto, and Uncle Ignis, and Uncle Gladiolus—"

For now, her world was tranquilly content.

"—And we're going to have lots and lots of fun with Uncle Prompto and—oh! Mommy, I just remembered something! The other day, when you and daddy were busy, Uncle Prompto said that I was ready to be a man so he took me to this place! It was really weird and I think Uncle Prompto called it an s-strip club or something and the smell was awful and a lot of people were drinking something really weird and oh! Mommy, Uncle Prompto also let me have a sip of it and it tasted awful and it burned a lot and the women there were really pretty but not prettier than you mommy! You're so much prettier than they were and they weren't wearing a lot clothes and I think Uncle Prompto something about them being hot or sexy but—"

Wait…what!

-**xxx**-

Her son admired his father, much more than anyone could know and he always tried to live up to his name of being the King's son.

At the tender age of five years and five seasons, the ten-year old had already excelled in his chosen musical endeavors and was already moving onto the more sophisticated string instruments after mastering two instruments of the woodwinds family. Most especially when he tinkered on his green piccolo or blew into his dainty flute.

However, the government and court had finally deemed it appropriate to have the prince of the palace and the boy and girl twin that were only of three years and six months old to be shown to the public. Her first son had already gone through this whole shenanigan when he was seven, however, for her two babies, this was their first time. They were both nervous of course but when they heard that they're big older brother was going to be with them, they immediately ordered for the makings of new clothes and materialistic items.

With her daughter's hair French plaited and her both of her sons' hairs' gelled and slicked back—they looked like the perfect children. Her three beautiful, perfect children and they were all hers.

The announcer had called out her husband's name first after announcing his title. Noctis strived out to tremendous applause as he stepped onto the raised dais and through the thick curtain. The flash of cameras pricked her eyes and before she knew it, her title and name had been called out and she stepped out into the peering eyes of millions and to the white-hot flashes of cameras. Plastering a smile, she left just enough room for her children to walk through when they've been called out to stand in front of them. The way they sauntered down that marble staircase—their granite faces schooled to be cool indifference and stoutness. For a moment, her heart cracked—her babies, _oh _her _babies_, they should've been enjoying sunny days running through flowery fields and flying kites with streamers chasing after them.

Soon, her first-born son and the crown prince stood alongside her and when her two babies walked out, her heart swelled with glowing pride. Their faces of a beautiful statue mastered and fired by the very smith god himself. Pride, she could see and feel, bloomed in Noctis' eyes and she herself found love and everlasting motherly pride in every step, every breath, and every millisecond that they stood as _her children_.

(_and she loves them. Loves them to the bottom of her clandestine heart and their visages of old family and royal blood. And she will cherish these every moments of love, affection, and everything that she treasures. She loves her beloved husband—oh, her lovely, caring Noctis and she wouldn't trade anything else in the worlds, universes and even time itself for these moments and now they are growing and growing and growing and she will watch and protect and love. She will cherish if not for herself then for her baby sister who will never get to see this. Her baby sister who she was not able to protect and when she herself dies, she will cherish everything she has and protect these moments)_

Hand in hand, they walked and soon they stood in front of her—their backs to her front and she smiled amidst the tears and grins.

-**xxx**-

_To My First Baby (Artemis),_

_Time flies when you're growing up, doesn't it? _

_My first child, my first boy, my first baby. You are my first step into motherhood and I love you. More than you will ever know. _

_As master of the palace, you were christened Crown Prince of the Caelum Dynasty and the next bearer to the throne. You were everything your father and I wished for: a heir to the throne and the first child to be thrown into our lives. I _love_ you, your father _loves_ you and…I hope that you can see that. When you grow up, when you get your first girlfriend—now stop that nonsense. And those faces as well, I'm your mother, even in the future as you're reading this right now, I _know_.—your first kill—I know it hurts baby, I know.—your first kiss, first child, first _everything. _We will be there for you. Your father, me, Lenora, Byron. We will all be there for you. Uncle Prompto, Uncle Gladiolus, Uncle Ignis, Aunt Stella,—your deceased Aunt Serah—all of us. We will all be there for _you_. Whether or not I'm still alive when you read this, I will always watch over you and cherish you. My child, my baby—I love you with everything I have and more._

_You can only make your own destiny—remember that now._

_723__rd _Queen of the Caelum Dynasty, Royal Consort to _723__rd_ King Noctis Lucis Caelum of the Caelum Dynasty, Chief Commander of the Army,

_Claire Caelum nee Farron_

-**xxx**-

Artemis smiled softly at the letter, his mother had died just the year before. At the age of a ripe twenty-three, he still had the title of Crown Prince since his father was still persistent of that his old age could still take on the world, government, court, and still have the time to whoop his ass. Ruefully, his lips slid into a soft line. His mother, his beloved mother, had died during a surprise attack. A barbed, wicked sword had been slammed through her while she had been protecting his little sister Lenora.

He knew Lenora still blamed herself for getting their mother killed but there was nothing she could about. His little sister didn't know anything of the Dark Arts and Noctis would most certainly prohibit her from ever learning them. No matter how tears shed, their mother wasn't coming back.

But they knew that their mother was watching over them and each of them had read their own personal letters. He knew that his father had silently cried when he read his own and Artemis always wondered why. There wasn't much that could drive his father to tears—not pain, mental, or emotions. But when he saw that scrunched face with tears streaming down as they _plip-plopped _down onto the letter. Lenora had locked herself inside her room after she read the letter and when she came out, she was a totally different person. Never been one to treat her offensive arts seriously, the whole family had been surprised when Lenora said that her life ambition was to achieve the title of Chief Commander—just like their mother. She practically lived in the training rooms now and the fun-loving, bubbly girl had finally metamorphosed into the pragmatic, stony lieutenant right now.

Just like their deceased mother, he surmised and stood up. His legs started carrying him to the throne room where his father called him to.

Byron, however, broke down.

He sobbed at the death of their mother and more often than not, ran on his emotions. It was dangerous trait but their mother had always loved him for it—saying that it gave him character while the rest of the family stood by and crossing their arms. Artemis let out a short snort—it was one of the more familial times that they had. Aside from the occasional family picnics and vacations to every single corner of the world, it was one of their many home times.

Throwing open the two large doors to the throne room, he was surprised to see the Head Archduke there in the ceremonial robes traditionally used to christen the next king. His eyes widened at the implying sentence under the gaze of his father and finally his eyes roved around to see that every important families of the courts were assembled. Viscounts, duchesses, marquises, every body of every title. They came from all parts of the world and a part of his heart cracked.

His mother. His mother couldn't see this joyous day alongside him.

However, already he could see her comforting smile, her arms always open for a hug and with his eyes now flaring with a new resolve, he strode on down the burnt red carpet towards the rest of his family.

Father, Lenora, Byron—_everyone_.

Kneeling down, he prepared for his coronation as the 724th King of the Caelum Dynasty.

-**xxx**-

If he strained his ears hard enough, Artemis could hear his mother's twinkling, wind-bells laughter in the air and the feel of his mother's comforting glow that always surrounded her.

-**xxx**—

"_Father, Father!" An eleven year old Artemis yelled for his father. His four year old younger siblings chased gleefully after them and he continued to yell for his father, "Father, help!"_

_As her children chased each other in the meadow, Lightning leaned back her head onto her husband's chest. The dancing sun glimmered large above them and the clear, blue sky had no clouds to speak of. Warmth pulsated through her chest and she smiled. A hand came up to stroke her cheek affectionately and she brought her head up to snuggle into Noctis' collarbone and neck._

"_We did good, right?" _

"…_yeah. We did, didn't we."_

"_Hmmm."_

"_I love you, you know."_

_A snort. "Corniness becomes you, Noctis."_

_A laugh. "You should be used to it by now. We've been married for…"_

"_Twelve years, dear."_

"…_I knew that."_

"_Whatever…you."_

_An amused grin, "What was that, honey?"_

_A glare, "No sex for a month, _honey._"_

_A nervous chuckle. "Sorry."_

"_I…you."_

"_I know baby. I know."_

-**xxx**-

I'm absolutely horrible at writing fluff. I hope that everyone enjoys this tiny story since my writer's block is currently suffocating any inspiration out of me.

Until then!


End file.
